The Day Before
by That Creative One
Summary: The revolution is nearing, but the Les Amis de l'ABC is nowhere near ready. Grantaire and Enjolras get into a fight, Joly is being his usual hypochondriac self and annoying everyone. And just to top it off, Courfeyrac is sick. Will the Les Amis be able to pull themselves together before the Judgement Day?
1. Chapter 1- Time to Relax

Chapter One

It was a cold Friday evening, and possibly for the first time recorded in human history, Enjolras was sitting down. And relaxing. Yes, relaxing.

The blonde curly-haired revolutionary was laughing at something his friend Courfeyrac had said when the door to the café opened. The group of friends turned to see Combeferre enter the café. He stops short when he sees Enjolras.

"Wait a moment. Wait just a moment- Enjolras, you're _sitting down_? And _relaxing_?" Combeferre turns a half-circle to see all his friends and feigns worry and fear. "Who are you and what have you done with my maniac of a friend?" he said.

Enjolras rolls his eyes and laughs at the same time. "C'mon, 'Ferre, it's not like I _never_ relax." he said.

"Um, no, it's exactly like that. I seriously think the last time I saw you laying down was-" Combeferre starts, but is cut off by Enjolras.

"Okay, 'Ferre, I get the idea. No need for sarcasm." Enjolras says.

'Ferre pulls up a chair and sits around the small table with the rest of his friends, who also coincidently are also 'relaxing' with Enjolras. "I was just messing with you, 'Jol. But you really should relax more often."

"Well I am now, aren't I?" Enjolras says with a persuading smile.

"You better be, and not planning some speech or paper or war you plan on starting," Courfeyrac says, earning much laughter from his friends.

Enjolras was just coming up with some witty response when he noticed his friend Joly staring at something behind Courfeyrac. He turned a bit and saw a figure with a shock of curly black hair sitting in a corner on the floor with a full bottle in his hands. Enjolras rolls his eyes, because he knows its Grantaire. Still….it's odd for Grantaire to be alone like this. Normally, whether sober or not-so-sober, Grantaire is joking around with his friends. Not sitting in a corner.

Quietly, Enjolras asks the group in general, "How long has he been there?"

"I was here earlier, and when I was getting ready to leave, I heard him come in. He looked incredibly upset; I have no idea why, though. He got a drink, but as you can see, he's barely started it. He's just been sitting there, not even drinking, for hours…I wonder if he's ill." Courfeyrac says quietly, and 'Ferre nods in agreement.

Joly adds, "He doesn't seem ill; just depressed. I wonder what's going on…"

Enjolras nodded, and was also wondering. Obviously sensing the negative air coming over the group, Courfeyrac gets back to joking around. The rest of the group quickly joins in the fun, Enjolras included. But in the back of his head, he can't stop wondering about Grantaire. Aggravating as he can be, Grantaire is still one of his friends. Enjolras makes up his mind that he will visit Grantaire later and try to find out what's going on. But for now, he will just relax.


	2. Bitter Words

Chapter Two

Much later that night, Enjolras was all but wiped out. Laughing along with Combeferre, Joly, and Courfeyrac….he couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. Combeferre was right; he should relax more often.

"Okay everybody, I think I should go," Enjolras said, standing up, "I'm pretty worn out, and I was planning on checking on Grantaire before I went home."

Many of his friends' shoulders slump at the mention of Grantaire; they all have been wondering what happened with him, and of course nothing but worst-case scenarios have been coursing through their minds all evening.

"Ah, well, make it home safe, 'Jol. Be sure you tell us what's up with R," Courfeyrac said, using Grantaire's old nickname. The rest of the group said their goodbyes, and with that Enjolras left.

It was a fair amount of walking in the cold weather to Grantaire's flat, but when he arrived, Enjolras realized he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say. Deciding it may be just best to wing it this time; Enjolras entered the building and went up a few levels to Grantaire's flat.

Enjolras knocked softly on Grantaire's door and, upon hearing no response, softly opened the door and entered the dark front room. He glanced around- there was a ratty old couch with a mound of blankets on it, a surprisingly clean kitchen, and two doors down a narrow hallway. He was about to call Grantaire's name when he realized the mound of blankets on the couch _was_ Grantaire.

Quietly as he could, Enjolras began approaching the couch. Grantaire's head poked out of the mound of blankets. To Enjolras's surprise, Grantaire's face hardened into a glare. "What do you want?" he asked icily.

Enjolras considered his answer as he walked over to the couch and sat down next to Grantaire. He hadn't expected Grantaire to be so bitterly secluded; as a matter of fact, he wasn't sure _what_ he expected from Grantaire. For a moment, Enjolras wondered if this was a good idea; maybe something personal had happened and Grantaire didn't want to talk about it. _Well_, Enjolras thought, _I have to try_. And Enjolras was a very persistent person.

"I wanted to see what was wrong," Enjolras said softly, trying to seem nicer than how he normally acted towards the cynic, "I noticed you seemed a bit...upset, today at the café." _More like an uninhabited shell_, thought Enjolras, but he didn't dare say it out loud. "Do you want to talk?" he asked?

"No- I really _don't_ want to talk. Please leave." Grantaire said, already sliding back into the mound of blankets.

Enjolras bit his tongue in order to stop himself from saying something he would regret. He decided he would try again; sometimes Grantaire could be as stubborn as Enjolras. And that took commitment.

"Okay, can you please at least tell me what's wrong?" Enjolras said with diminishing patience.

"No. I get you're trying to be nice, but your friendliness or usual lack of it is not necessary here. Please get out." Grantaire said.

This seriously set Enjolras off. He had limited patience to start with, and he hated being pushed out of things. Enjolras huffed with exasperation and headed towards the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder and said, "Well, you don't have to be so rude. I try to be nice and this is what I get."

"Oh, don't be like that. Seriously, you're compassion is not necessary. Go back to ranting about revolutions."

That was the last straw of patience for Enjolras. He whirled around and said, "You have no right saying those things about me,"

"You had no right barging into my home."

"I- just- I was trying-"Enjolras was even more furious with himself for stammering. "You are the most horribly ungrateful, unappreciative, intolerant person I have ever met." Enjolras angrily said.

Grantaire paled a bit, and his eyes turned to slits. He stood up, "You think you know everything? You think you're right about that?"

"I-"

"But oh, no, the mighty Enjolras knows everything. You want to keep making judgments before you know what's really going on? If you have to know, I just received word my mother has died." Even at his own words, Grantaire's face drained of color. He said in a voice just more than a whisper, "She's dead," He sat back on the couch, staring at the floor.

Enjolras felt horrible. He started to say, "Grantaire, I'm so sorry, I didn't-" but Grantaire cut him off.

"No. I don't want your pity, I don't want your sympathy!" He was shouting now. His voice dropped to a whisper again. "Go. Just go."

And this time, Enjolras complied. Closing the door, he went down the stairs and out the building. Grantaire strained his ears and waited until he could no longer hear Enjolras's footsteps. Even though he was alone, Grantaire buried his face in a pillow so no one would hear his tears.

END

Yay Chapter Two, done! Suggestions are always welcome! Keep on reading!


	3. Don't Want to Talk About It

Chapter 3

Enjolras had barely made it back to his flat before his phone began to buzz. Plopping down on his bed with a book, he pulled out his phone and saw the Combeferre and Courfeyrac had started up a group chat.

_**Combeferre:**__ Hey 'Jol, how's R? _

_**Courfeyrac: **__You have seen him, right? Is he sick? _

Enjolras was about to text back, but he really did not want to re-hash his situation with Grantaire. He already felt horrible about saying what he had, and was just about to turn his phone off when he got another text, and this one was not part of the group.

_**Grantaire: **__Whatever you do, don't tell anyone about my mother or I swear I will sneak into your house at night and kill you. I mean it. And I'm turning my phone off now, so don't try apologizing. _

Well, now what was Enjolras supposed to do?

_**Courfeyrac: **__'Jol? Are you even here? _

_**Combeferre**__: I think he's asleep, 'Courf. ___

_** Courfeyrac: **__Yeah, I bet your right. _

_**Joly**__: ____I just got back from the hospital. Has Enjolras spoken to Grantaire yet?___

_** Combeferre: **__Not sure. We think he's asleep. So sad you joined, now we can't use Enjolras's nickname anymore. _

_** Courfeyrac: **__Yeah, Enjolras has such a long name to type out.___

_** Joly: **__No worse than your name, Combeferre.___

_** Combeferre: **__:P _

_** Joly: **__I'm going to call Enjolras, because God knows he isn't really asleep. Just in some partially-incoherent state of mind._

_** Courfeyrac: **__Very true. _

Enjolras considered whether what he was doing would be considered eavesdropping or not. Either way he decided it may be best to just fess up now. Then again, the last time he trying winging it, he had ended up not a winner.

_**Enjolras**__: Sorry for not responding, I'm here._

_**Joly**__: Good, I'm low on battery life. _

_**Enjolras**__: So glad I could convenience you. _

_**Joly**__: Oh, be quiet. _

_**Enjolras**__: I'm not talking. _

_**Courfeyrac**__: Let's get back to the point at hand. Did you talk to R? _

_**Enjolras:**__ Yes. _

_**Combeferre**__: So what happened? _

_**Enjolras**__: Well…I went over, and I tried talking to him, and he got angry at me, and…_

_**Courfeyrac**__: AND? _

_**Enjolras**__: I got angry at him and I said some really horrible things to him, and then he told me what was going on, and he just…I don't know. I don't want to talk about it. I feel bad enough having said those things to R without telling everyone else. _

_**Combeferre**__: I get it. Can you at least tell us what happened to R? _

_**Joly**__: Yeah, I think 'Ferre speaks for all of us when he says that. Bossuet was bothering me earlier about R. _

_**Enjolras**__: He asked me not to tell anyone._

_**Joly**__: So we've got nothing to work off of. _

_**Courfeyrac**__: Just respect his privacy, Joly. _

_**Enjolras**__: I'm going to go to bed. Bye. _

_**Joly**__: Have fun in your partially-coherent state of mind. _

_**Enjolras**__: Shut up. _

_**Joly**__: I'm not talking. _

_**Courfeyrac**__: Goodbye, Enjolras. _

_**Enjolras**__: 'Bye. _

__Enjolras couldn't help but keep playing Grantaire's words over and over in his head. _"You want to keep making judgments before you know what's really going on?"_ Was Enjolras a judgmental person? Was that how everyone saw him? Right now, Enjolras was to upset and tired to attempt thinking about what happened earlier. Crawling into bed, he picked up his book and got about 4 pages in before falling asleep with it in his hands.

END

So, what do you think? I low on ideas for chapter 4, so PLEASE REVIEW! Favorite and keep on reading!


	4. A Heavy Sadness

**NOTE** Sorry if this chapter stinks, I've got writer's block. Sorry also if it's short.

Chapter 4

Enjolras woke up when it was still dark; it was a well-known fact amongst the Les Amis that Enjolras was a horrible sleeper. He kicked and fidgeted and it was because of this that Courfeyrac refused to share a bed with him, and instead shared with Combeferre, who was willing to leave his flat for two reasons. One, recently in his building an extra room was needed since a foreign exchange student from Poland had moved in, and needed a place to stay; and two, because Courfeyrac hated sleeping alone. So Courfeyrac and Combeferre shared a bedroom, while Enjolras got one to himself.

However, it wasn't just a habit that had woken Enjolras up so early today. He sleepily rolled over and squinted at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed- it was just after 3 a.m. Enjolras heard movement in the kitchen, and wondered who the heck was up at this ridiculous hour of morning. Fear shot through him and he wondered for a split second if someone had broken in; dismissing the thought, Enjolras crawled out of bed and walked into the kitchen.

To Enjolras's everlasting surprise, he saw that Courfeyrac was in the kitchen; he seemed to be holding a bowl of something hot, as Enjolras could see steam rising from in front of Courfeyrac. He couldn't tell _what_ exactly was in the bowl, because Courfeyrac's back was turned to him- which meant Courfeyrac had not yet seen Enjolras.

"Courfeyrac? What are you doing?" Enjolras asked, his voice filled with confusion and hinted annoyance as well.

Courfeyrac jumped; he whirled around to see who was there, and in the process, some of the hot liquid from the bowl sloshed out onto his bare foot.

"Ow! Jesus, Enjolras you scared me," Courfeyrac said, clutching his foot. "What are you doing up?"

"What are_ you_ doing up? Is your foot okay? What was in the bowl?" Enjolras asked.

"One thing at a time. There was soup in the bowl, and just so you know it was probably over a hundred degrees!" Courfeyrac inspected his foot, which was red and starting to blister.

"Oh, I'm really sorry, Courfeyrac." Enjolras said, kneeling down to get a better look at Courfeyrac's foot. "Ouch, that looks like it hurts."

"No, 'Jol, it tickles. Yes, it hurts!" Courfeyrac snapped, and then glanced at Enjolras apologetically. Going over to the sink, he turned on the cold water and, with some level of difficulty, stuck his burned foot under the water. Sighing with relief, he turned to Enjolras and said, "I was really hungry, so I got some soup."

Generally, this would be a sufficient answer for Enjolras. But it didn't clarify why he was hungry at 3 am. "Why were you hungry at 3 am?" he asked suspiciously.

"I was really busy yesterday, typing a paper at the university so I missed lunch- and I stayed late. Then when I got home, I had to go to yesterday's meeting- which turned out to be relaxing, and by the time I got back I was just too tired to eat. I just went to bed. After I texted you, of course. Which was relatively pointless." Seemingly as an afterthought, Courfeyrac added, "And Joly has been bothering me a lot recently. Just his normal hypochondria paranoia."

"Well, that makes sense enough. You should get your foot checked by a doctor." Enjolras said.

"Not Joly though. I'll just head down to the drugstore and get some burn cream and bandages tomorrow." Courfeyrac said.

They both stood in awkward silence, not sure what to say or do. Finally, Enjolras cracked.

"I just can't stand how horrible I feel about those things I said to Grantaire! It's been bugging me ever since I talked to him, and he isn't talking to me so I can't try to apologize for it." Enjolras said, feeling relieved to have finally told someone.

"Well," Courfeyrac said. "I don't really have much to console you with, considering you won't tell me what happened to Grantaire nor what you said to him."

"I would tell you, but Grantaire told me not to tell anyone." Enjolras sighed.

"Wait, I thought he wasn't talking to you."

"He texted me last night. He told me not to tell anyone what happened to him or he would sneak in here at night and kill me." Enjolras said miserably. "And I'm sure he is willing to."

"Willing to, maybe, but remember, you're everything in his eyes." Courfeyrac said.

"He'd still do something, although I would rather not like to think what. He'd try something like…I don't know, putting a rabid animal on me." Enjolras collapsed onto a chair, uncharacteristically tired.

"So, can you tell me as much as you can while leaving out the more explicit parts?" Courfeyrac said carefully.

Enjolras shot him a glare. "There was nothing explicit about it. I just said some stuff I regret now." He sighed, and then added, "But I'll try."

Recalling the previous night, as it was now well past 3 am, Enjolras concentrated on what he could tell Courfeyrac without feeling rotten all over again. Which, of course, he assumed would be pointless. Enjolras was not a sentimental or emotional person; he normally would not feel regret or guilt at things he had said, but what he said to Grantaire was especially rude- and then Grantaire told Enjolras his mother had died. Hearing that, it was like a punch in the gut. He wished so much he could take those words back. He knew for a fact if someone had made that judgment about Enjolras and said those words to him without knowing what had happened, Enjolras would very likely hit them. So he couldn't imagine what Grantaire was feeling, with the pain of his mother's passing still raw.

"Well…last night, I went into Grantaire's flat, and when he saw me, he asked me in a rude way what I wanted. I asked him what was wrong, and he…he told me that he didn't want to talk, and he told me to get out. I got kind of angry, and I told him I was just trying to be helpful, and he told me to go back to ranting, which I got really angry at. So…I-I said some really rude things about him, and then he told me…he said I think I'm always right, and that I make judgments about people before I know what's really going on, and…he told me what had happened to him, and it made me want to take back all the rude words I had said. But now he isn't talking to me, and he wouldn't let me apologize, so I'm not sure…what I should do." Enjolras said, staring at the floor the entire time. Admitting things he had done wrong was not his strong suit. He felt an embarrassed blush color his face.

Courfeyrac was silent for a minute; then he spoke slowly, as if choosing he words carefully. "I think the best thing to do is wait for Grantaire to blow off some steam, and then try talking to him."

Enjolras shook his head sadly and said, "That won't work. I wish I could tell you what happened to Grantaire, why he was acting so depressed but he told me not to." He felt tears of guilt, confusion and sadness sting his eyes and he blinked them away.

Courfeyrac considered this. He looked at Enjolras with sympathy in his eyes and said, "I'm just not sure then. I guess the best thing you could do is just keep trying to apologize to him. Grantaire isn't one for holding grudges; he'll listen soon enough."

This cheered Enjolras up a little bit, because Courfeyrac was right. Grantaire rarely held grudges against people, but Enjolras was worried that what he said was too awful to forgive.

In a voice just above a whisper, Enjolras asked, "Courfeyrac? Am I a judgmental person?"

Another tense pause. Finally, Courfeyrac answered, "I don't personally think you are judgmental. However, you can sometimes be rather disapproving of Grantaire, but you have every right to considering the history between you two, and Grantaire's history in general. I don't think any of the rest of the Amis thinks you're judgmental, and if I were you I wouldn't worry about it. Sometimes people say fabricated things when they're mad."

Feeling slightly better, Enjolras said, "Thanks. I'm going to go back to bed now. Good luck with your foot, 'Fey."

Courfeyrac smiled. "Thanks. 'Night."

Enjolras collapsed on his bed, and was too tired to think about anything but sleep. And soon enough, he was.

END

Sorry if that chapter wasn't as good as you wanted it :/ I had some writer's block, so I know this chapter is long and boring. I do have some plans for chapter five though. Reviews are always appreciated, and please favorite! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5- An odd kind of Forgiveness

Chapter 5

Another meeting later, the Café Musain was still full of people waiting eagerly to join the Revolution. Enjolras had the speech he was planning ground into his mind enough so he could recite it in his sleep, but his mind kept straying to Grantaire, who was sitting at a table, drunk of his mind. That or just in another depressed-sitting-in-a-corner phase.

"Attention!" Enjolras called, and the sea of enthusiastic faces turned to him.

"We gather here today to fight for what has so long evaded our grasp. The government of France has twisted the law, with the people on the receiving end left to rot. We suffer from inequality; is it fair that we be pushed away from the chance to lead the life of any other? Does democracy represent the people starving, the people dying…" Enjolras's voice trailed off, as his eyes found Grantaire. _People dying_, he thought. People dying.

Thankfully, Enjolras didn't need to cover; the people cheering overwhelmed the café, and made a reasonable excuse for him to pause.

Determined to make it through the rest of the speech without faltering, Enjolras continued, and occupied his thoughts by looking from person to person and imagining what their story was. Enjolras normally didn't imagine such things; but he knew that otherwise he would very likely pause again.

What seemed like an eternity later, the speech ended with a roaring applause from the sea of shining faces. Waiting for a new future.

A future only Enjolras could bring.

_For God's sake, Enjolras, get yourself together. The Revolution is nearing and you can't afford to get distracted like this. Go over to him, apologize, and that'll be it, _Enjolras told himself.

After the café had cleared enough that Enjolras was able to walk to Grantaire's table without needing to shove anyone (not that he would want to!), he slowly and quietly walked towards the near empty table in the corner. Enjolras swallowed his pride and fear, then slowly sat down next to Grantaire.

It was like Grantaire was in a coma; he hadn't acknowledged anything that had happened around him. Enjolras waited a minute; he wanted to see if Grantaire would do anything. Nothing.

"Grantaire. I know you don't want to listen to me, and I know you probably hate me right now. I know you've looked up to me and I've let you down. I said something awful, and every day since I've been wishing I could have taken those words back. I'm incredibly sorry, both because of your mother, and because of what I said. I understand if you won't forgive me, but I'm asking you, please, forgive me for what I said." Enjolras said in a slow, careful, quiet voice, putting every ounce of himself into it.

For a moment, Grantaire was silent. When he spoke, his words were barely audible. "You always did have a way with words, Apollo." Grantaire said, with an empty smile on his face.

"You're right. You are exactly right. I've looked up to you. You were the flame, the heart of the revolution. You kept me alive. Do you know how long ago I would have left this world had you not been there? Ever thought of why I drink?" Grantaire's words were like knives in Enjolras's heart.

"At first, I thought a flame would bring warmth. I tried and I tried, and I never seemed good enough for you. I reached but I fell. And that's all that happened.

"Then I hear my mother has died. When my father would beat me, or when my brother would beat me, my mother was the one there to tell them to stop, to make them stop. When I got word she had died, I was that close to just ending it there. A knife and a bottle. What more did I need?" Those words made Enjolras's blood run cold. That close.

"You come. Really I don't want to talk. A fire brings warmth, but sometimes all you want to do is simply lie in the cold and let it take you. I wasn't prepared to go on without her, but you were the flame reminding me, 'you have to stay alive'."

"And then…you go, and you say those things about me, you horrible, judgmental person you are, and then I learned. Fires burn. And you are a flame."

Enjolras was at a loss for words. It was simply too much for Enjolras to process, and none of it made sense. Grantaire's family beat him? Grantaire was thinking…about committing….

None of it made sense. Only that Enjolras knew just how badly he had hurt Grantaire.

The scary thing was, Grantaire spoke with no emotion in his voice. It was flat and empty. Like he wasn't there anymore.

"Please, please, please, Grantaire, please forgive me." Was all Enjolras could say, and in just a whisper.

Grantaire let out an irritated sigh and stared at his bottle, weighing Enjolras's words. Finally, he looked at Enjolras and said, "Why? Why should I forgive you?"

"You shouldn't. You're right, I'm a judgmental person and I'm horrible to you. You shouldn't." And even as he was saying it, Enjolras knew that these words weren't just to make Grantaire forgive him. They were true.

Grantaire sighed again, closing his eyes for a moment. He then said, "Please, Enjolras. Don't flatter yourself. You aren't horrible or judgmental. I was just angry. I really hope you don't see yourself that way, because I just have to learn not to touch the fire. Then I won't get burned."

Enjolras only felt worse at those words. He felt like he was putting his friend in a cage, forcing him to put limits on himself so he didn't get hurt. He was about to speak again when someone hit him across the face.

"Dammit, Enjolras. Quit thinking like that. I said I didn't mean it. You said you're sorry for being rude, I apologize for hitting you. Can we please go back to annoying each other? All this emotional stuff is way too sappy for me." Grantaire said, taking a long drink out of the bottle he had.

Enjolras nearly laughed, and would have maybe if his face didn't hurt so much. Grantaire, just hit him across the face to accept an apology? For some demented reason, Enjolras wasn't angry or offended. He was just glad things were back to normal.

"Thank you, mon ami." Enjolras said, smiling at Grantaire. He was about to leave when he asked, "Can I tell Courfeyrac about your mother?"

"Knock yourself out, Apollo." Grantaire said, taking another long drink.

Laughing, and still slightly confused, Enjolras left for home.

END

A/N: Sorry if this was a really confusing chapter. I had to get it done, and I promise chapter 6 will be better. Thanks for reading, and PLEASE REVIEW!


	6. Everything's My Fault,

Chapter 6

_A/N: So it's been a long time since I updated, and I have some *shudders* writer's block. I'll do the best I can with this one, but chances are it'll be mainly a filler chapter. R&R, please, and thank you for reading! _

Chapter 6

Enjolras sat down next to Grantaire in the Café Musain. The cynic was surprisingly sober for an evening, but for a good reason; Grantaire was deep in an elaborate sketch, with his arm blocking most of the picture from Enjolras's view. Grantaire guarded his artwork very closely.

"Grantaire, I want to talk to you." Enjolras said, getting right to the point without a greeting. Their conversation about a week ago had been nailing Enjolras in the back of the head ever since they spoke.

Sliding away his ever-faithful sketchbook, Grantaire raised an eyebrow in question. What mental illnesses plagued the O Mighty Apollo that he should visit the wine cask today?

Enjolras bit his lip, not exactly sure how to continue. These past few days had been rather odd for Enjolras, filled with awkward pauses like these. And he hated it.

"I wanted to ask, what you said last week, about…." Enjolras was worried he would be treading in deep water if he brought up the beatings and…other things Grantaire said. Enjolras wanted to know if they were true, although he couldn't imagine why Grantaire would make these things up.

"You wanted to know if they were true?" Grantaire said. Upon Enjolras nodding, he continued, "My father and brother were both alcoholics, years before I was. When they were drunk and I tried to stop them, they would beat me. My mother would be the only one there to stop them. That's why I turned to alcohol," Grantaire said, rather shortly.

"And the…." Enjolras said, not wanting to say the words aloud, as if recognition would give the word power.

"Oh, you mean….no, I just said that to annoy you." Grantaire said, looking away. Enjolras was about to begin lecturing him on how that was a horrible thing to say as a joke or to annoy someone when he saw a guilty blush color Grantaire's cheeks. Enjolras knew he was lying.

And he felt horrible about it.

Nodding and thanking Grantaire, Enjolras went back to his shared flat with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. When he entered, he saw Combeferre writing at the kitchen table. He held one finger up to his lips to indicate Enjolras had to be quiet, then pointed down the hall to the room shared by Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

Slipping down the hall as quietly as he could, Enjolras peeked inside Courfeyrac's room, where he saw Courfeyrac sleeping. He had obviously just collapsed onto the bed, as he was laying on top of the bed with no covers over himself. His foot was heavily bandaged.

"Great," Enjolras muttered to himself, remembering Courfeyrac's burn. _We're back to everything being my fault_, he though bitterly.

Silently joining Enjolras, Combeferre whispered, "I think he's ill. He was coughing and grumpy earlier, and I'm pretty sure he has a fever. How he burned his foot is beyond me."

Enjolras decided not to mention the whole soup-scare incident to Combeferre. Slipping off to his own room to write his next speech, Enjolras wondered if this negative cloud over his would ever break.

END

Like I said, this is mainly just a filler chapter. I don't have many ideas for chapter 7, ideas are most appreciated! (::) Cookie for reading!


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